Unexpected Confession
by Lazy Imagination
Summary: Milady may be strong, but everyone has their weaknesses. One night she wakes up after the nightmare and she is tired of this loneliness. She does something, that she was feared of for so long. She shows her true feelings to no one but her husband.


**XOXOXOXOX**

Anne woke up in tears. She glanced around the room: she was in her bed, in her chamber, in her home. The woman tried to steady her breath but couldn't. She was having nightmares again. All the dark moments of her life. All the nasty things. Death of her mother when she was three years old, then the attempted rape on her eighth birthday, her father's death when she was just at the age of ten, monastery and humiliation in there, escape, work for Sarazin, escape again, a short bliss of happiness in Athos' arms, Thomas' dead body, betrayal and hanging tree, work for Richelieu, assassinations, lying, cheating, Athos' "death" and the unexpected feeling of emptiness and pure pain, when she saw him laying in the mud shot by his friend d'Artagnan, then the following bliss of hurt, when Athos ordered her down on her knees, his words to leave Paris. All of these things were poisoning Anne's mind when she was awake, slipping in her dreams at night. They were torturing her.

Two months ago she left Paris. Two months she was living in her ancestral manor in Gascony. The estate of the Comte de Breuil, whose daughter she was. She returned to home, where she really belonged, and where she was kicked out from by her father's sister, who caused the landlord's death in the first place. But now as her aunt was dead, she could freely live in her family home.

Her childhood friend Ginger and the local archivist Arnaud, who was the register in the sixth generation and son of her father's good friend, were her closest people alive, well, except Athos. She considered these two men as her best friends and brothers.

After her return to Gascony, the three of them were making amends, sharing their problems, thoughts and everything as they did in their childhood. Anne started practicing in horse-jumping, hobby she was passionate about for her whole life. She was fencing with her brothers, running through the wide fields of her homeland, swimming in the nearby lake, riding her black steed Hurricane bareback and leading the life she had once when she as ten. Well, not exactly the same, as her lovely cousin Constance and one of her family maid's daughter Fléur were missing. She hasn't heard about her sister since her forced exile. And she missed them dearly.

But now she couldn't think about anything except a terrible headache and nightmare she had. She was scared and lonely and needed to find Arnaud for at least a little bit of comfort. Hot tears still streaming down her cheeks, but it didn't bother her if Arnaud would see her crying. He has seen her in much worse conditions. She got up and, wrapping a blanket as a cocoon around her, ran out of her room.

The hallway was dark, the only light was coming from the candles at the staircase at the end of corridor. Nobody lived on the third floor of the manor, except her, so servants were instructed not to illuminate these parts of house, as Anne preferred that darkness. Reaching staircase, she heard voices speaking down in the main room of her estate. Sighing in relief that her elder brother was already in her home; she quickly descended the stairs and ran into the living room.

Anne has frozen the moment she was in the big and bright lounge. There was Athos! Sitting on her couch, in her living room, in her estate. There also were other musketeers among with Constance, the Queen and the other unfamiliar woman beside Porthos. But Anne couldn't have cared less. She felt loneliness fading away. There was Athos! There was the man, she despised and hated so much. The man, she loved and was ready to sacrifice her life for. Her husband!

**XOXOXOXOX**

Athos among with the other Musketeers was trying to save the Queen from the Richelieu's assassins. Cardinal was trying to kill the governor once again, so the best of the King's Musketeers were ordered to protect and conceal Her Majesty. Porthos, just in case, has asked for Fléur's help and Ana of Austria assigned Constance Bonacieux as her maid, so much for d'Artagnan's relief woman was accompanying them as well.

Tréville considered a monastery was a bad place to hide Her Majesty, that's why Athos proposed to lie low in his old friend Arnaud's home in Gascony. When they have arrived, Arnaud offered to stay at his sister Comtesse's estate. It was bigger and nobody would have searched there as in all the documents the manor was abandoned and the Comtesse dead.

The house was very welcoming, all the maids and servants seemed to really enjoy their work. But one thing was missing. The Comtesse was nowhere in sight, but as the friend of Athos' said, she was fast asleep in her bedroom or riding a horse near the lake, though it was pretty late at night. Arnaud said that Comtesse was more than capable of defending herself, that's why he was calm. He assured them that his little sister loved guests and big companies and wouldn't have minded them staying at her home.

They were sitting on the couches in the living room. Maids and servants have already been asleep, and the room they sat in was the only room where life remained. Landlady hasn't returned yet. Arnaud was telling about the Comtesse Anne. Hearing the name, Athos sickened, but didn't give state away, preferring to gulp wine from his glass. Topic has changed and Musketeers have started stories from their job, entertaining women and Arnaud with them.

Athos was sitting facing the staircase. In one moment, he turned his head up, the picture he saw shocked him. Anne was standing on the first step of stairs. His Anne! His wife! Hair in disarray, shocked expression on her face, a duvet was wrapped around her slender frame, bewilderment written all over her face. Something was strange, though. Her eyes were oddly red. The next second a lonely tear was streaming down her porcelain cheek.

**XOXOXOXOX**

The swordsman was even more shocked when Anne suddenly ran towards him, throwing herself on his lap, quilt falling on the floor. She snuggled against him, face burying in the crook of his neck. Confused Athos instinctively wrapped arms around Anne little body, that was now curled around him. Everyone in the room was looking at them baffled and not understanding what was happening. But at the moment it didn't matter at all. Anne started muttering something, Athos cocked an ear, and what he's heard made him feel young again. For first time in past years he could breathe freely, despite how tight was her grip around his neck.

"Athos! I don't care, if you think of me as treacherous slut or murdering whore or venomous snake." Her cries were muffled by his neck, her breathing hot against his skin. "I don't care, if you hate me. I don't care, if you will kill me or not. I would rather die, than endure this loneliness again! I can't live without you! I…I can't breathe! You have all the rights to hang me right now or to call me whatever word you want. I don't give a damn unless you are by my side, unless you are talking to me. I really can't take it anymore." She was restless. "I want to die! To die but be able to see your face until I take my final breath. It better to be dead than never to see you, never to hear your voice, never to feel your arms on me. I love you and I don't care, if you want me d…dead!" Anne was clutching on his shirt, breathing hard. It seemed to Athos, that she would choke on her violent sobs. He's lifted her weightless body, setting comfortably on his laps, and drawn her even closer to him, even though it seemed like it was nowhere to.

His eyes moved to look at his friend, who sat silent and as shocked as he was himself. Turning his gaze on Arnaud, Athos saw the mixture of different emotions from bewilderment, realizing, fury to helpless anger, understanding and acceptance. And the swordsman was struck by the knowledge of Arnaud's awareness. The man knew about him, about his sister's past life, marriage, hanging, work. He knew everything! For Athos utter astonishment, Arnaud nodded at him with a silent approval.

As concerning his other friends, Aramis, being a romantic he was, was basically yelling at him with his eyes to comfort the shaking woman, as were the other women, who sat in the room. Porthos seemed more confused than any of them, he couldn't tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. Even d'Artagnan looked like he was on Milady's side, getting up to pick up the thrown blanket and hand over it to Athos to cover Anne with it.

Athos returned his look to the woman on his lap. She was still crying and mumbling love confessions in his neck. He wrapped a blanket around her again and carefully got up, intending to move her to bedroom. She tensed up at the motion, so the swordsman whispered a soothing "Shh… I am here" to her ear. Anne's grasped has tightened at that, which make athos smile.

"Are you going to let me go?" Athos teased her slightly. However, he wasn't sure what did he mean: letting him go at the moment, or letting him go in total. But nevertheless, he couldn't help the smile, when his wife shakes her head in response. She seemed so little, like a scared child. And she was sacred. The Swordsman needed to calm her down properly, o get her to bed and make her sleep at least for couple of hours. So, he turned his gaze to Arnaud, clueless, where Anne's room was.

"Third floor." Mouthed silently the man, realizing what Athos wanted to do. The swordsman left the living room and his bewildered friends in order to calm his crying wife down.

**XOXOXOXOX**

Reaching the said stage, he carefully tried to get to the door, where the dim light was coming from. The corridor was darkened, and Athos wondered, how his wife managed to get to the staircase, being in such a condition. It was clear for him, that Anne had a nightmare, that's why she ran down the stairs so shell-shocked and scared. Stepping in the room, Athos reached the bed, carefully placing his burden down on the bunk, but Anne tightened her grip in a silent plea, not wanting to let him go. But he still broke his arm out of her grasp, at what she gave another sob, this time more violent and even pained, as though he would've stabbed her. It made him almost physically sick.

Athos kneeled beside the bedpost, carefully taking her head in his palms, making her to look into the eyes. The new stream of tears was falling from her beautiful emerald-green eyes, that were now paled by the devastation and hurt.

"Shh… Anne, I'll be right back, I just need to get you some water, fine?" His voice was soft and quiet. He managed to sooth her down a little bit and then got up to bring a glass of water, making her swallow it down. He's laid down beside her, wrapping arms around her slender frame. Anne was far from completely calming down.

"Anne, listen to me, I will always be beside you, don't worry. Please, stop you crying! It will not bode you well, if you continue. I don't want to see you hurt and pained! Please, your heart won't bear so much of crying!" He planted a chaste kiss on top of her head, tangling his hand in her dark curls. It hurt him a lot to see his beautiful and always smiling wife, who would've never shown her worries, in tears, choking oh her own sobs.

"I love you." Anne breathed out quietly, as she's already been drifting away in sleep. He silently gasped at that, wondering, how she could even stand to be with him, with her murderer in the same room, let alone trusting him enough to trust with her feelings.

He knew, they had a lot to discuss, but right at the moment he wished for nothing but her sleeping peacefully. He was concerned about her wellbeing. He remembered in what state he would've found her after her nightmares when they were in La Fère. But that time around it was the worst hysterics she has ever had in front of him.

Athos kissed her on the forehead, leaning his head against hers, sighing in relief and content. He fixed the slipped blanket, hugging Anne closer to him. He bent down to her lips, brushing his own against hers carefully and lightly. Her perfect red lips, that tasted as the sweetest honey, was now flavoured with tears' saltiness. The former Comtesse moaned slightly in his mouth, and then the swordsman felt new rush of tears over her cheeks. Softly wiping them away, he tightened his hold around her, letting sleep take over him.

They would settle things later, for now they both needed a good rest and a firm press of their bodies against each other. Reassurance, that everything was real.


End file.
